Worth Saving
by Faye Dartmouth
Summary: Billy knows that Casey would never leave him to die.


Title: Worth Saving

Disclaimer: I do not own Chaos.

A/N: Written for and beta'ed by **lena7142**.

Summary: Billy knows that Casey would never leave him to die.

-o-

Billy feels foolish, if truth be told. And with good reason, too. He's been beaten and bested, tied up, and left in the open like a scrap of meat to bait the wolves.

It'll work, is the thing. Even without his innumerable injuries, his bound and gagged form is sure to elicit a response. Because Billy knows that Casey Malick talks about his general dislike of mankind, he boasts of his lack of connections, he relishes insulting those who care about him - but mostly, Billy knows that Casey would never leave him to die.

Not even when it's such an obvious trap.

The men with guns are just out of sight. They've set this up just right, with enough men and enough coverage that when Casey sets foot in the camp, Billy will be full of bullet holes and Casey won't be far behind. It's nothing short of an invitation to suicide, and Billy's gut roils.

Because this is his fault. It's his weakness; his screw-up. He let this happen, and now his best mates have to risk their lives to rescue his. He's not sure he's worth it, and he hates to think of anyone dying on his account.

But there's another thing Billy knows, and it steels his resolves and lets him hold his head high. He can screw up; he can lose a fight; he can be bait in a well laid trap. But this isn't any ordinary man coming to his rescue. This is Casey Malick.

If anyone can do this, it's Casey.

Casey will.

Yes, it's pathetic, but that's part of what being a team is about. Where one is weak, another is strong. Billy can be bait, but his captors have no idea that the trap they've laid will only catch themselves.

By the time the rescue comes, Billy's half slumped over. He's lightheaded with blood loss and dazed with pain. He hears the gunshots; hears the fighting; and lets himself go limp to the ground.

When he comes to, Casey is there, untying his hands and pulling out the gag.

Billy blinks a few times, finding his way through the haze of pain, and he realizes he's flat on his back, looking up at Casey, silhouetted by the sunlight.

Casey shakes his head. "That was stupid," he says, and his face is pinched in a way that looks like annoyance but Billy knows better. "But I suppose I owe you a thank you."

Billy tries to lift his eyebrows, but finds that it hurts too much. "Oh?"

"Yes," Casey says, tying a bandage around Billy's torso. "If not for you, I never would have been able to get them all in one place. I managed to capture them all with no extra leg work. It's saved us a ton of mess."

"When you put it like that, it sounds right smart," Billy muses, groaning a little as Casey pinches a wound on his arm.

Casey snorts. "Just this once, I'll let you think that."

Everything is getting fuzzy, and Billy grins sloppily. "I knew you'd come."

Casey rolls his eyes. "Only because I know you'll never actually get smarter."

"Doesn't matter," Billy murmurs, eyes drifting closed. "You'd still come."

Casey doesn't say anything, but when he bundles Billy tighter and it all slips away, it's really answer enough.

-o-

It's basically suicide.

That's the easy way of putting it.

Billy has been captured by a group of arms dealers, stationed in the remote African countryside. The plan had been to monitor activity, work on one of the low level guards, get in for a few shots, and high tail it back to Langley. But somehow Billy ended up beaten to a pulp and left out as bait.

Bound. And gagged. Not that Casey could necessarily blame them on that last part. He'd gag Billy most of the time if he had the chance, but given the state of Billy's face and the way he's barely upright on his knees, it may be a little overkill.

Still, Casey has to admit, it makes a point. It's a strong statement, almost mocking Casey. Telling them that they had won this round, and that they thought they could win the next one, too.

They've gone to great measures to ensure that, too. Casey's not entirely sure if the intricate ambush is supposed to be hidden, but Casey can see all the telltale signs. He knows Billy's thoroughly surrounded by men with heavy weaponry. He knows that the second he gets close, Billy will be dead. He knows that he'll be dead, too, and that their bodies will probably be dismembered and left to bake under the desert sun.

These things are obvious. Under normal circumstances, Casey would recommend waiting them out a bit. Putting them off their game, making them doubt their tactics. Plus, in another day, Michael and Rick would be back from their side mission, and they could hook up together, hatch a plan, and execute it with speed and agility for the minimal amount of risk and the optimal gain.

But this isn't a normal circumstance. Not because one of the ODS has been captured - this happens more than Casey thinks it should, much to his chagrin - and not even because they're seriously outnumbered and at a severe disadvantage. But because of _Billy._

The Scot is in a bad way. He's listing and bloody. His face is swollen, and there's blood coating his cheek, matting his hair. His clothing is stained and ripped, a visible gash in his arm and a bloody puncture on his torso. His eyes are open - sort of. His gaze seems a little far off, and every now and then he seems to drift, almost flopping on his face before righting himself.

Casey doesn't care about the odds. He doesn't even care about how it happened. He cares about fixing it.

Now.

It's hard work - in theory - but for Casey, the execution is rote memorization. It's all textbook: creating distractions, disarming and maiming. He goes for simple shots. He doesn't waste time with playing careful. He incapacitates. He kills, moving through one and another. If he kicks in the throat of one, he follows up by blowing away the next three with their own machine guns. He breaks noses into skulls, gouges eyes, shoots people at point blank range until there's no one left standing.

Not even Billy.

He moves quickly to Billy's side, where the Scot has crumpled. For a second, Casey fears the worst. He worries that his strong approach hadn't been enough to distract all the shooters, that someone has taken out Billy despite Casey's best efforts. That he's failed. That Billy is...

He's on his knees next to Billy, rolling him on his back. The younger man flops lifelessly, resting awkwardly on his bound hands. His skin is colorless against the bright red blood and vivid bruises. He doesn't respond to Casey's touch.

Casey locks his jaw and refuses to think it. Instead, he works at the gag, pulling it from Billy's mouth and throwing it aside. Billy's breath is hot against his hand-

He's alive.

The relief is almost overwhelming, so he doesn't let himself feel it. Instead, he unties Billy's hands, arranging the Scot more carefully on the ground so he can assess his wounds.

It's not good, but Casey already knew that. It could be worse - though not by much.

Still.

Billy finally blinks, head lolling as he moans slightly. It takes a long moment, and Casey tries not to look like he's watching when the man finally manages to focus his eyes.

Casey shakes his head. "That was stupid," he says, because it's easier than saying how worried he was. Working his jaw, he purses his lips. "But I suppose I owe you a thank you."

Impossibly, Billy lifts his eyebrows, though it looks like it hurts. "Oh?" he asks, voice strained and thin.

Turning his attention to Billy's body, he sets about bandaging it so he doesn't have to look Billy in the eyes. "If not for you, I never would have been able to get them all in one place. I managed to capture them all with no extra leg work. It's saved us a ton of mess."

This is truth.

The fact that Casey believes truth is relative is not relevant.

Billy seems to accept that at face value. "When you put it like that, it sounds right smart."

Working on Billy's arm, Casey snorts. "Just this once, I'll let you think that."

This time, Billy seems to be fading again, eyelids drooping as he struggles to stay conscious. "I knew you'd come," he murmurs, far too sentimental. Because Billy is annoying under all circumstances, and when he's semi-conscious, he tends to get emotional.

Which is more reason to hope that the Scotsman stays healthy. Casey finds the overwrought emotions tedious.

He rolls his eyes. "Only because I know you'll never actually get smarter."

Billy's eyes are closing now. "Doesn't matter," he says. "You'd still come."

Casey stops in his ministrations, lingers just long enough to let Billy slip back under, his body going limp under his touch. He waits another moment as Billy's breathing evens out.

Then Casey carefully finishes the bandage on Billy's arm, tying it off firmly but gently before resting it back on the ground. He has to get Billy out of here. He has to call Michael to clean up this mess. He has to do a lot of things.

But suddenly they don't seem as important.

Suddenly a lot of things don't seem as important.

He sighs, resting back on his haunches to look at Billy, bruised and bloody and alive, again. "Yeah," he concedes. "I guess I probably would."


End file.
